


Five Times They Settled For a Quickie

by CharlotteK



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, My first fic in two years, Quickie, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:19:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteK/pseuds/CharlotteK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And the one instance where they could take their time. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fitton

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in nearly three years. Thank you to everyone who still reads, comments on, and bookmarks my other works. It means a lot to me :). Here's some Skipthur slash, in case you were looking for it.

Arthur showed up early for flights because, for the most part, Carolyn made him. Martin showed up early for flights simply because he was Martin, and when didn’t he show up early for work? While Carolyn would spend most of her time tucked away in her small office at the back of the portakabin, Martin and Arthur used to chat idly while Martin caught up on his logbook, sip their tea, or sometimes play cards while they waited for Douglas. Well, before they knew how they felt about one another. These days, though, things were different. Very, very different. Sure, they’d still have tea and play cards and exchange pleasantries, but sometimes, when there was enough time and they felt they could get away with it, they’d exchange…other kinds of pleasantries.

While the two of them (and Carolyn, but it wasn’t like she was in a good enough mood to talk to them in the mornings; she normally wouldn’t bother until she had filled up on caffeine) always came early, Douglas had a knack for being exactly on time, if not a few minutes later now and then. His streak for coming in late was at six days now, according to the tally inside the cover of Martin’s logbook. Martin scratched yet another line into the book, and looked up to find Arthur grinning slyly at him.

He knew what that meant.

“How late do you think he’ll be?” Arthur asked in a hushed tone. Martin scooted his chair closer, and ran his nails up the inside of Arthur’s thigh. Arthur squirmed. 

“I’d say we’ve got five minutes,” Martin said as he glanced at his watch. It would be ample time, he figured. In the last couple of months, they had become well-versed at making things quick. They peeked into the small window on Carolyn’s office door. She had her back turned to them, as her computer and phone were on the other side of the room. She looked pretty busy, and she hadn’t been in there nearly long enough to need a second cup of coffee. Martin wasted no time unbuttoning Arthur’s trousers and unzipping the fly. Arthur, the eager sod, was already hard. He loved that about Arthur; he was so willing to please.

Taking out Arthur’s cock, Martin started with slow, teasing strokes. He took his hand off it, licked his palm, and then started again. Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat. Arthur’s cock wasn’t the “conventional” type; at least, not for Martin. It wasn’t long and thinner, as was the case with the few other men Martin had been involved with in his past. It was considerably shorter, though not too short, but so much thicker than Martin had had before. He gripped it tightly, and he watched Arthur bite his lip. It was the perfect size for him, he decided. It made him prefer having Arthur on top when they had time for more serious encounters.

“Go faster,” Arthur whispered.

So Martin did. It didn’t take long before Arthur’s breathing picked up, and Martin was sure he could hear Arthur’s heartbeat from here. He added a subtle twist on the upstroke, and wicked away a small drop of precum with his thumb.

“Are you serious?!” Carolyn’s infuriated voice boomed through the thin walls of the portakabin.

Martin paused, worried that she might come out.

“Keep going,” Arthur pleaded. “It feels really good. I like the risk of getting caught.”

Kinky, Martin thought. But then again, Arthur was full of surprises. He stroked slowly again, as they both strained to hear what all the yelling was about.

“Douglas, this better be a damn good excuse!” she bellowed. “Thirty minutes late? What the hell have you been doing?! I don’t want to hear your… oh, hang on. There’s a call on the other line. Hello? Ah! Mr. Birling, what a pleasant surprise…”

It was amazing how quickly Carolyn could go from soul-sucking She-beast to sunshine and rainbows.

“Gives us some more time,” Martin whispered in Arthur’s ear. The larger man shivered, and his cock gave an excited twitch in Martin’s hand. Still watching Carolyn through the window, he brought Arthur to the edge once again, and kept him there. Carolyn stood up from her chair, and before she could turn around, Arthur had put everything back in place, and hastily zipped his trousers.

“What are you two staring at?” Carolyn grumbled as she walked out of her office. “Never mind, I don’t care. Mr. Birling phoned. He said he won’t be ready to leave for Lillehammer for another two hours. Douglas is, predictably, going to be rather late again.” Arthur and Martin gave each other excited glances. Martin had completely forgotten it was Birling Day. He wondered what kind of tip Mr. B would give out this time. Today was shaping up to be a good day.

When Carolyn refilled her giant mug and went back to her office, Arthur pulled his leaking cock back out for Martin to finish. He didn’t bother with the slow and teasing strokes this time. Once he got Arthur back to his original hardness, Martin made sure to rub it just the way Arthur liked: quickly, twisting gently now and then, and paying particular attention to the head. It didn’t take long before Arthur had to bite back a huge moan, and Martin felt the thick spurts of cum coating his hand. He stood up to wash quickly at the sink and grab a couple of napkins, kissing Arthur’s cheek as he got up.

Today was shaping up to be a good day, indeed.


	2. Lillehammer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's going to have to give one of the quickets blowjobs of his life.

This wasn’t their first time in Norway. In fact, this was Arthur’s second time in Lillehammer. Carolyn had taken him to see the winter games when he was in his teens, but those days seemed so long ago now. Mr. Birling, having picked up an old pamphlet from 1994 – which made Arthur question the last time that man cleaned his flat – was adamant that the games were going on “right now, so let’s hustle!”, even though it was the middle of June. Regardless, the trip was booked. Really though, Arthur wondered, how could Mr. Birling have gotten so mixed up?  Normally, Arthur wasn’t one to judge one’s absentmindedness, but it seemed like old Mr. B was really losing his marbles these days.

After calling a cab to take Mr. Birling to wander around Lysgårdsbakke, the crew headed back to their hotel to drop off their things before touring around for the day. Because Carolyn was cheap, she usually made Martin and Arthur share a room, and she didn’t seem to notice that Martin had stopped complaining a long time ago. Arthur knew that Martin always enjoyed sharing with him, though he didn’t admit it at first. Douglas, aside from the occasional ribbing, didn’t seem to care much, either. Sharing hotel rooms for this long played a very big role in what brought Arthur and Martin together.

Things started off innocently enough, at first. Sometimes, if they didn’t have to be up terribly early and neither of them could sleep, they’d stay up and chat for a while. Eventually, the conversations turned to more sensitive matters, in which Arthur had revealed that he didn’t have any specific preference – he liked pretty much everything – and learned that Martin was gay. That piqued both of their interests, it seemed, because after that, sharing a room had become more comfortable than it already was. They had fallen in love not long after, though part of Arthur knew that he had loved Martin since his first flight with MJN Air.

“Don’t mind me, just barging in,” Douglas announced as he pushed the door open and chucked his overnight bag into the room. “Looks like Scrooge McKnapp-Shappey felt extra cheap when she booked our hotels earlier,” he explained. “And put the three of us all together.”

Arthur was disappointed. For a second, he almost wondered how good at being quiet he and Martin could be. He pushed the thought out of his head. It would have been a terrible idea.

“But if you don’t mind me, I’m going to shower before I head out. Airport germs, you know. And I was running too late to get a proper wash this morning, anyway.”

With that, he shut the bathroom door behind him and turned on the water.

As soon as Douglas turned on the shower, Carolyn’s footsteps came rushing down the hall, and Arthur and Martin found themselves greeted by a flurry of knocks on their door.

“Pack it up, pack it up!” She exclaimed. “Mr. Birling wants to go home, and he wants to go home now.”

“But we’ve only been here for what, an hour?” Martin protested. “And we just got to this hotel!”

“Good observation, Sherlock,” Carolyn answered tersely. “But Mr. Birling called me in a fury. He’s realized that it’s not, in fact, the Winter Games. He’s chapped, to say the least.”

“And that’s why we don’t trick an old man into thinking he’s going to the Olympics during the summer, more than twenty years after the games have ended,” Martin grumbled.

“Business is business,” Carolyn huffed. “Where’s Douglas? Is he in the shower?! Tell him to hurry up, because we leave as soon as he gets dressed!”

“I heard you!” Douglas called from the bathroom. “Just give me a minute.”

Carolyn stormed out after telling them where to meet her. Arthur knew that to Douglas, “a minute” usually meant about twenty. And it gave him an idea.

* * *

           

Arthur knew how to give a good blowjob. It was daunting at first, but after some gentle encouragement from Martin, and several wonderful demonstrations, he had become much more confident over time. And it showed, apparently. Martin was gripping the bedpost as he leaned against the wall for support. He tipped his head back, and let out a huge breath. He was trying not to moan, Arthur could tell.

“Oh God, Arthur…” Martin whispered. “Take it deeper. Yeah, just like… ahh!”

He took that as a cue to go a little faster. He followed Martin’s subtle cues – his gasps, stifled moans, the way he put a hand against the back of Arthur’s head – until he could feel Martin trembling slightly. He could feel himself getting hard just knowing how much he was turning Martin on. Arthur had no worries about the quiet sucking noises he was making. He knew Martin loved it all: the sight of Arthur’s mouth around his cock, the way he bobbed his head back and forth on it, the sounds he made as he sucked, moaned, and sometimes choked. He loved to please Martin, and this was only a small “thank you” for the morning’s activities in the portakabin.

The shower turned off. Martin tensed up. Arthur knew he had about thirty seconds, maybe forty, to finish up. He stroked Martin’s shaft quickly as he licked and sucked on the head, looked up into those pretty blue eyes of his, and then took his whole length, all the way down, in one flawless swoop.

Martin bit his hand hard when he came. It shot out quickly, all five or six hot, thick ropes. There wasn’t much there for Arthur to swallow, he had taken Martin in so deep.

Martin had barely buckled his belt with shaking hands when Douglas emerged from the bathroom.


	3. Minneapolis

 

The Local was an interesting pub, Martin thought. Of course, they didn’t call it a “pub” here in Minneapolis. It was an interesting “bar”. The four of them decided it a good idea to eat there after checking into their hotel. Carolyn must have been feeling generous, Martin figured, since everyone got their own rooms this time. That would hardly stop him and Arthur. The football on the big screen TVs, or “soccer”, as everybody else in the place wanted to call it, kept Douglas’s attention. And though none of them were Irish, the pseudo-Irish cuisine on their plates wasn’t too bad. For someone who didn’t care much for going out drinking, Martin liked this place.

"Another round o’er here, please!” Arthur yelled in his best Irish accent, which hadn’t improved much since their trip to Cork. It made Martin smile.

“Arthur, dear heart,” Carolyn explained as she gave the bartender a flippant wave. “You’re supposed to ask for another round _after_ you’ve finished your drink. Look, yours is still mostly full!”

“Oh, right-o,” Arthur chirped. He downed the pint of beer at an alarming speed, despite Carolyn’s warning gasp.

Martin knew that it wouldn’t be long before they had a drunken Arthur on their hands; on his hands, rather. There was a reason why Arthur wasn’t allowed much access to alcohol. It wasn’t that it turned him angry or destructive, as far as Martin knew. There couldn’t have been a violent fiber in Arthur’s docile being. What Martin did know was that alcohol made Arthur extremely friendly and helpful. Far more helpful than necessary. He thought of it as sober Arthur’s cheerful and clumsy and absent ways, but times ten, at the very least. He could think of four pubs they’d been kicked out of to back that fact. And each time they had been kicked out, Arthur would puke on somebody’s shoes, and they’d shove him into Martin’s arms to take care of him. He prepared for the task as he watched the bartender refill Arthur’s glass.

           

* * *

 

“Hey, wh-where’d Arthur go?” Martin asked. Arthur was sitting right next to him not five seconds ago…wasn’t he?

Carolyn started to look a little panicked. The only thing worse than an overly-helpful drunken Arthur was an unpredictable, overly-helpful, drunken Arthur who had wandered off in an unfamiliar city. Douglas didn’t seem bothered.

“Probably gone to the loo,” he said, not really taking his eyes off the match on the TV.

Carolyn seemed to relax a little. Martin figured he’d check, just to be sure.

Sure enough, Douglas was right. Arthur was washing up at the sink, trying to flick a small piece of hair out of his eyes.

“Oh, hey Skip!” he said with a huge smile. “Isn’t this place huge?” He chucked his paper towel scrap in the bin. His huge smile turned into a little grin. “And we’re the only ones in here!”

“Looks like it,” Martin said, wondering if Arthur was trying to go somewhere with this. He had mischief written all over his face.

Turns out, he was. In a flurry of heated kisses and fervent biting and sucking of bottom lips, they fumbled into a stall and locked themselves in. Martin couldn’t believe they were doing this. It was so dirty, so risky. It was kind of a turn-on. He let Arthur push him against the stall door and pin his wrists as he stood there helpless, enjoying every second of Arthur unbuckling their belts and getting their ready cocks out.

Arthur pressed up close against Martin, and wrapped a hand around both of their cocks. He started slowly, of course, and built up the speed and urgency until Martin could barely take it. He wondered where Arthur picked up this particular trick. It was amazing. Incredible. Insane, even! He reached down with his other hand and began to tease that really sensitive spot just behind Martin’s balls.

“Oh my God…” Martin groaned. He tried his best to keep from shouting. He could feel the pressure building up inside him already. It wouldn’t be long before he exploded all over himself and Arthur. They kissed again, a clashing of teeth and tongue, and Arthur reached back a little further and began teasing another sensitive little place. The sensory overload was starting to blow Martin’s mind. He felt a familiar coil of heat in the pit of his stomach, and the pressure built up inside him turned into an intense, overwhelming need to come.

And he did. His knees would have buckled, had it not been for Arthur holding him in place against the door. Somewhere during the fireworks and static fuzz going on in Martin’s brain, Arthur finished too, and from the look of the mess, it had been just as hard as Martin.

“Arthur? Martin?” Douglas called as the bathroom door opened.

Thankful that they had chosen the furthest stall from the door, Martin fixed his trousers as Arthur did the same. He motioned for Arthur to get on his knees.

“Just trust me,” he whispered. “We’re over here, Douglas!”

Douglas stopped in front of their stall.

“Is there a reason for sharing?” Douglas asked, sounding like he didn’t want that question answered.

“Arthur’s had a bit too much to drink, I’m afraid,” Martin said. Arthur seemed to take the hint. He made a fake retching noise, and coughed for good measure. “He’s been sick this whole time. I think he’s done now, though. Aren’t you, Arthur?”

“I think so,” Arthur said, trying to sound dismayed. He stood up, flushed the toilet, and Martin let himself and Arthur out of the stall. Arthur even wiped at his mouth with his sleeve to finish the act.

“Wonderful,” Douglas said sarcastically. “I suppose I’ll call a cab for you, then.”

“I can do it,” Martin offered, pulling his mobile out of his pocket. “I’m thinking of going back to the hotel, anyway. I’ll look after Arthur, I guess.”

He was going to look after Arthur, alright.


End file.
